


(baby) we were bound to burn

by cornerkick



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:14:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23061769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornerkick/pseuds/cornerkick
Summary: The odds are absolutely not in their favor, but Emily knows, has always known, what she’s going to do if her sister’s name is drawn. She suspects her twin knows, too, and would do the same for her, even though they both know which of them stands even an iota of a chance inside that arena.That’s just how sisters are.ORThe Soran Hunger Games AU no one asked for
Relationships: Emily Sonnett & Kelley O'Hara, Lindsey Horan & Kelley O'Hara, Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett
Comments: 15
Kudos: 88





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> okay so THIS monster has been in progress since before my very FIRST fic for this fandom. i wrote the beginning in something like october and went back and tweaked it a bit, but i think it's time to share it with the world.
> 
> title is from dermot kennedy's "young & free" but that's just because that's my deal; it doesn't have much to do with the story.
> 
> special thanks to erin for catching a few typos for me. if any remain they're my fault because i hate proofreading.
> 
> there will be character deaths and descriptions of violence but probably none more than the original series so warnings for that i guess?
> 
> buckle up, kids. this is gonna be a bumpy ride.

They are seventeen. 

It means their names are in the bowl six times each, but because their family is so poor, their names are actually in the bowl twenty-one times each. The odds are absolutely _ not _ in their favor, but Emily knows, has _ always _ known, what she’s going to do if her sister’s name is drawn. She suspects her twin knows, too, and would do the same for her, even though they both know which of them stands even an iota of a chance inside that arena. 

That’s just how sisters _ are. _

They’re both dressed up, her sister in the nicest dress their mother could sew and herself in a button-up blouse and a skirt that’s a size too big, so she has to wear her father’s thick, leather belt around it. She’s got her hair straightened and pushed back with a headband. Her twin’s sits curled evenly about her shoulders. 

The mayor gets shakily to his feet and starts retelling the history of Panem, how the country rose from the ashes after war had decimated what was once known as America. Emily zones out somewhere during this, cautiously giving a quick glance around their section. The youngest kids, only twelve, are at the back. Five people down from her, she spots the mayor’s daughter and swallows; she knows for a _ fact _ if _ Lindsey’s _ name is called today, she’ll just as soon throw herself to the wolves as she would for her own sister.

It’s not _ quite _ like that, but her feelings for Lindsey are _ just _ as strong. 

She looks beautiful in a dress blue like robin’s eggs, hair tied back neatly with a matching ribbon. It makes something in Emily’s stomach flip, but not unpleasantly, though her mouth _ is _ really dry. She must just be nervous about the Reaping. 

Her gaze flicks towards the stage again. Kelley O’Hara, the only living Victor from their District, is draped over a chair beside the mayor. 

She looks a little bit like she’s going to be sick.

Emily and her sister hold hands as the Capitol spokesperson, someone whose name Emily’s already forgotten, takes the stage and wishes them all a _ Happy Hunger Games! _ There is a ripple among the crowd of tightly-packed children as he says “Ladies first!” And waddles over to the glass bowl that has forty-two _ Sonnetts _ in it. 

Emily’s sister’s hand is shaking so Emily gives it a squeeze and holds her breath as the official reaches into the bowl. She only exhales when he says the name. 

It’s her twin’s. 

The world seems to tilt a bit on its axis and Emma’s hand is clammy as she tries to pull it away, but Emily holds on fast. The words are there, her brain _ screaming _ at her to say them, but there’s a lump in her throat so big she can’t seem to make them form. 

“I volunteer!” Oh. So maybe it _ had _ worked. “I volunteer as tribute!”

Her voice sounds weird, far away and shaky and _ deeper _ than she remembers, but Emily figures it’s just the nerves that have done it. 

Beside her, her sister gasps and covers her mouth with the hand not reaching back for Emily’s. Emily gives her a crooked smile and tries to pull her hand back, but this time, it’s her twin who holds on tight. 

“I can’t believe she did that.”

“I said I would,” Emily says, but something’s not connecting. The words don’t make sense, but maybe it’s just the shock. She follows her sister’s gaze as another ripple goes through the crowd while someone -a very _ familiar _someone- makes her way through the masses and to the stage. 

_ Lindsey. _

She doesn’t realize she’s _ yelling _ until she feels her heartbeat in her ears, feels her throat go raw from how long she holds onto it. Her sister’s anchoring her in place, grip tight so that Emily doesn’t go barrelling through the sea of people and try and pry Lindsey from the stage with her bare hands. Tears prick the corners of her eyes as she says it again, softer this time, desperation clinging to the syllables. The guards at the periphery are moving, now, like they can sense she’s going to be trouble. Emily’s shoulders drop as she swipes angrily at her eyes, unable to see as Lindsey’s hand is hoisted up by the man in the sparkly suit.

“A volunteer!” He says, but his words are muffled. The world is spinning again and Emily can’t make it stop. “What made you do that for this other young lady?”

She’s looking directly at Emily when she says it, though Emily can’t see her through the white-hot tears clouding her vision. 

“She means a lot to me.”

She is not talking about the Sonnett whose name was drawn.

42 slips of paper with their last name on it, and only six that said _ Lindsey Horan _ on them and yet it’s Lindsey Horan standing up on stage now, looking impassive and almost bored with the proceedings. 

The odds were very much not in Emily’s favor.

-

After, Lindsey is swept up by her father and the Capitol representative and taken into a small room in town hall that she hadn’t even realized existed. She paces for the first few minutes, the silence almost deafening other than the sound of her pulse hammering in her ears. 

What had she done? It wasn’t even like _ Emily _ had been chosen, but they’d talked about it, and Lindsey knew, _ knew _ that as soon as her sister’s name had been called, that Emily would be throwing herself in front of the bullet.

So Lindsey had just done it first.

Emily is probably _ pissed. _ It’s still worth it. 

She tries the door, just because, even though she knows, logically, that they must have cameras on her. It’s locked anyway. The handle doesn’t give at all when Lindsey jiggles it. She goes back to pacing.

The door squeaks when it opens. Mike appears first, a forced smile on his face though his red eyes give him away. Lindsey throws herself into her older brother’s arms. When he’d still been eligible for the Games, he’d vowed to protect her from such stupid decisions. He’d told her he’d volunteer for the volunteer, as if that was a thing someone could even _ do _, but he’s aged out and there’s nothing he can do about it.

“You’re an idiot,” Mike says into her hair and Lindsey laughs. It’s small but it’s _ real _ and she’s grateful to him for keeping things light. He gives her a squeeze and steps back to hold her by the shoulders instead. His eyes go soft.

“Give ‘em hell, okay?”

“Okay.” 

He steps aside and Lindsey’s parents swim into view. Her mom looks a little bit lost, clutching her bag in white-knuckled hands. Her father is very pale. Lindsey opens her arms for them and they sandwich her in a tight embrace. 

“Honey,” her mother breathes. The way her voice cracks breaks Lindsey’s heart a little bit. “You didn’t have to do that. Why would you do that? I don’t want to lose you.” 

“She’s not done yet, Linda,” her dad says gruffly, though there’s a rasp to his voice that tells a different story. He places a hand at the back of her head and Lindsey glances up at him.

“That was very brave of you, Lindsey. We’re proud of you.”

“I’m not,” Mike says from the doorway. “I’m pissed at you. Just in case you were wondering.”

Lindsey bites back another laugh and pulls away from her parents enough to look at them properly. “I couldn’t let her do it instead,” she explains, fingers curling in the hem of her dress just for something to do with them. 

“Emma?” Her father wonders, looking skeptical.

Lindsey shakes her head. “Emily.” 

Her parents exchange a glance and Lindsey thinks they must know, even if she’s never _ told _ them, even if she and Emily spent countless nights on the Sonnetts’ farm sharing whispers and kisses. 

“She was just gonna volunteer for Emma if I didn’t and I know I have a better chance at this than she does.” 

“So you’re going to try and win?” Her mom asks.

“Of course she is.” Mike answers for her. He sounds so sure. Not for the first time, Lindsey feels like her brother is the only person, other than maybe Emily, who understands her at all. 

“Time’s up,” a guard says from behind her family. Mike looks like he’s thinking about trying to fight them, but he thinks better of it. He just walks across the room to hug Lindsey one last time, whispering that he can be pissed _ and _ proud at the same time. 

Her father hugs her so hard that he picks her right off of her feet, tells her he loves her, and kisses the top of her head before turning to go.

Her mother leaves without saying anything else or hugging her again and Lindsey feels numb. 

After the door shuts behind them, Lindsey sinks into an overly stuffed armchair and rests her head in her hands. Now that they’re gone, she feels all of the resolve she’d stored up leaving her body all at once, her shoulders shaking as a few breathless sobs escape her. There’s no one to be strong for right now and she’s about to walk into a death trap where she’ll either kill other people to get out alive or die herself. It’s a lot to process in a short period of time, and now that her family’s gone, it all seems too _ real. _

“Linds.”

Emily’s voice is hoarse but not in the way Lindsey’s used to. She just sounds broken, and that alone makes Lindsey’s spine stiffen and the crying stop. Emily’s standing there looking smaller than she really is in her too-big skirt, hands clasped tightly in front of her. “Hey.” Lindsey’s voice is just as gravelly, and that’s all it takes for Emily to spring forward, cross the small room in three quick strides, and fling herself wordlessly into Lindsey’s arms. 

For a few moments, that’s all it is: Lindsey’s arms wrapped tightly around Emily’s waist while Emily clings to the front of her dress and burrows into the crook of Lindsey’s neck. It’s Emily crying quietly, now, trying not to with all of her might, and she’s not moving much, so she might have gotten away with it if not for the hot tears on Lindsey’s skin. She uses one hand to tip Emily’s chin and their eyes meet.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. You’re so _ fucking _stupid.” A beat. And then “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did, though.” Lindsey just shrugs. Emily’s biting her bottom lip so hard she tastes blood and then she releases it. Lindsey swipes her thumb over the cut thoughtfully and Emily rests their foreheads together and then Lindsey turns her head just enough to kiss her and it’s not much, barely a brush of their lips, but there’s a wordless promise there, too, an _ I’ll be back _ and _ We’ll do this again _ that neither of them says out loud. 

With shaking hands, Emily reaches up to unclasp the necklace she’s wearing. It’s something she’s worn for...forever, a simple gold bar on a matching chain, and she presses it into Lindsey’s hand, sealing her half of the promise they’ve just made. “Take it as your totem,” she says like a whisper, and Lindsey nods, already reaching up to replace it around her own neck. 

She touches the charm with her fingertips and feels a little bit more at ease knowing that, whatever happens, she’ll have a tiny piece of Emily with her in the arena.

“Linds, I-”

Whatever Emily’s about to say is drowned out when the door bursts open. One of the Peacekeepers barks out that their time is up and Emily’s arms tighten around her. Lindsey just sighs, drops a kiss to the crown of her head. “It’s okay.” 

It’s not, and that’s evident by the flash of fear in Emily’s eyes, the sharpness of her voice when she yells at the guard to _ get your hands off of me! _, but most obvious in the desperate way she throws her head over her shoulder to get one last look at Lindsey while two Peacekeepers bodily drag her out of the room.

And then, Lindsey is alone.

-  
The boy from her District is terrified and small. Lindsey kind of feels bad for him, except only one person can win so she doesn’t, really. She spends most of the first night listening to Mark, the Capitol representative, talk about the Games and what to expect, and Kelley contradicting everything out of his mouth with a scoff and an eyeroll. She retires early, without bothering to watch any of the Reaping highlights, much to Mark’s annoyance.

Her bedroom in the train is bigger than their home in the District, with a giant, plush bed, too many pillows to count, and a shower that massages her aching muscles into a pulp. She’s tucked into the unfamiliar bed in a soft t-shirt, but her mind won’t stop racing long enough for her to try and get to sleep. She tosses and turns, seeing Emily’s face every time she closes her eyes. First, stunned that Lindsey had volunteered. Then, angry at her for doing it. And, finally, the teary look she’d given her when she’d walked in to say goodbye.

With a sigh, Lindsey rolls over onto her back and stares blankly at the ceiling. She blinks, and it’s replaced with a starry night sky. With a start, Lindsey looks to her left, and sees that the entire wall has blinked into an exact replica of the farm, right down to the barn farther out. If she closes her eyes again, Lindsey can _ almost _ imagine that she’s laying in the grass on her back, listening to Emily’s laugh while they lay mere inches apart, making up constellations and dreaming of a world without Hunger Games and Reapings. 

She touches her necklace and her chest aches. She _ has _ to make it back to her.

-

Kelley O’Hara won her Games when she was thirteen. 

Since then, she has Mentored countless kids to a handful of Hunger Games and has never gotten one back. At first, she connected with them, put her entire heart and soul into making sure they knew what to expect and worked her ass off to get them Sponsors so that they could get help in the arena when they needed it.

But then two died. And then six and then ten and...eventually, it became too much for her. 

She’d lost a lot in her Games as it was. Reliving it every time some bright-eyed kid showed up was too much to deal with.

So Kelley started drinking and stopped trying. 

Tyler, the little boy who’s younger than even _ she _ was when her name was called, doesn’t speak to her at the breakfast table. 

Neither does Lindsey Horan.

Kelley doesn’t mind. She doesn’t really _ get _ Lindsey. She’s the mayor’s daughter. Her name was in the drawing once for each year and nothing more. But she _ still _ threw herself into the arena and for what? A girl who might end up right back there next year?

It doesn’t make _ sense_. 

Kelley doesn’t care enough to figure it out.

Lindsey cares too much.

She grabs Kelley’s foot while she dozes on the couch, cradling a bottle of liquor in her arm. Lindsey’s careful to reach for the good ankle. She was young when Kelley was in the arena so she didn’t _ watch _ it, but she remembers the stories of how Kelley’s ankle buckled as she outran a pack of Careers near the end of her Games. 

“What the fuck?” Kelley growls, flinging her leg out defensively. 

Lindsey takes a step back while Kelley kicks and raises her eyebrows at her. “What do you want, Horan?”

“I want you to do your job.” Lindsey spits at her. 

The way she says it makes Kelley’s mouth quirk in the ghost of a smile she hasn’t worn for years, but it disappears just as quickly. She’s not going to get attached. She’s not going to hope for anything, because the odds still aren’t in Kelley’s favor, even _ if _ there hasn’t been a volunteer in...as long as Kelley can remember. 

She just sits up, rubs her tired eyes, and takes a swig from the bottle before leveling Lindsey with a long look. “My job is to make sure you two don’t run off once we get to the Capitol. I’m not obligated to do anything else.”

“You’re supposed to help us,” Lindsey says, ignoring her completely and beginning to pace. Kelley tries not to remember how pissed off _ she’d _ been the day her name was called. It’s too familiar. “Not sit on your ass and get drunk.”

Kelley holds the bottle out to Lindsey. Lindsey looks doubtful. Kelley grins and lifts the whiskey just a little bit, shaking it by the neck. “First of all,” she says when Lindsey finally takes the bottle from her. She notices Lindsey doesn’t _ drink _ from it, though. “I’ve been doing this since before your name was even in that bowl, got it? I _ did _ my time and if they drag me out once a year to parade me around, fine. But I don’t _ have _ to do anything else.”

She stands up, stretches her arms over her head until her joints crack pleasantly, and tries to take the bottle back from Lindsey. 

Lindsey won’t let her, which is annoying, but it’s not like they don’t have more. 

“I have to get back,” Lindsey states simply. 

Kelley’s stomach flips, but her heart’s steady in her chest. “And?”

“And you did it. Help me.” 

She sounds desperate. Kelley tries not to think about the Sonnetts and fails. She wasn’t looking at Lindsey when she’d volunteered. Kelley had been watching the crowd and she’d heard the raw panic in Emily’s voice even if she couldn’t pick her out of the sea of kids. 

Kelley thinks about Alex and her heart _ aches _. 

“Help me get back to her.” 

Dammit. Lindsey Horan knows just what to say. 

She might be able to talk her way through this yet. 

“On one condition,” Kelley says.

“Anything.”

“You don’t want me to do this sober.” 

-

Emily kind of wants to boycott this, but part of her is terrified this might be the last time she ever sees Lindsey again, because she’s pretty sure she won’t be strong enough to watch the actual Games.

Her family doesn’t watch. They’re still too shaken that Lindsey volunteered to save her sister and no amount of fresh grain is going to make it up to the Horans. 

Emily’s standing in town square, wedged between too many people taller than her to _ really _ see the screen, and as soon as Caesar Flickerman appears, Emily’s scrambling up onto one of the pillars that surrounds town square to perch above even the tallest boys so that she can see.

They always broadcast these in a way that the Districts see their tributes first, even if District 9 definitely didn’t go first. The camera drifts from Flickerman as Lindsey’s introduced, and Emily’s breath catches in her throat. She looks gorgeous in a dress a color that might be blue or green depending on the angle. Actually, now that Emily looks at it, it might be changing color based on Lindsey moving. Her hair is curled and soft like they’re trying to make her appear younger than she is, but the same fire is there in her eyes as the day she volunteered. 

She looks ready.

-

“Remember what we talked about?” Kelley pushes a stubborn flyaway behind Lindsey’s ear. It springs free just as stubbornly. 

Kelley tries again. 

Lindsey nods. Kelley quirks a brow like she expects an answer and Lindsey sighs loudly. “Focus on the volunteering. Talk about Emily.” Her voices shakes a little bit when she says her name, but Lindsey keeps going. “Remind everyone that I’m different.” 

“And?” Kelley prompts, reaching for the piece of hair that’s bounced free again.

“And...don’t trip?”

“That’s a good idea,” Kelley agrees, giving up on taming Lindsey’s hair because it’s as impossible as trying to tame _ Lindsey. _

She has to try, though. She has to make her a little bit softer around the edges to help her get sponsors. It worked for her. It’ll work for Lindsey. 

It _ has _ to.

“Smile.” Kelley’s wearing a ridiculously toothy grin and it makes Lindsey laugh even though she feels a little bit like she’s going to throw up. Kelley pokes her in the cheek, right where her dimple would be if she was actually smiling. Lindsey does, though it feels forced. 

Kelley nods. “That’s it. Smile, talk about your girl, make yourself sympathetic to these people so they throw their money at you. Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

The boy from District 8 has just finished his interview and walked off the opposite side of the stage. Lindsey’s definitely going to throw up. 

“Here.” Kelley has a bucket ready for her. A rush of affection goes through Lindsey before she coughs up bile. She hadn’t eaten anything today. Her Mentor hands her a cup of mouthwash and mimes swirling it. On stage, Caesar Flickerman is introducing her as Lindsey Horan, the girl who volunteered. 

It’s not awful, but it’s not good enough to get her sponsorships from people outside of her own District. 

Lindsey takes a huge gulp of mouthwash, swirls it in her mouth, and spits it into the bucket while Kelley practically shoves her on stage. She throws her a thumbs-up from the side of the stage while Lindsey turns on the spot to face the crowd.

This is a mistake. There are hundreds, no, _ thousands _ of people packed into this auditorium. They’re all wearing colorful, sparkly Capitol clothing and it’s not helping the churning in Lindsey’s stomach while she shuffles towards Flickerman.

He’s smiling encouragingly and even reaches a hand out for her when Lindsey stumbles a little bit as she nears the interview chairs. She _ told _ Kelley that high heels were a bad idea, but she’d said it was expected and that she’d just have to deal. 

“Whoa, Lindsey -can I call you Lindsey?” Lindsey blinks at him. What _ else _ would he call her? “Be careful out there. Wouldn’t want you to break an ankle.”

“Yeah, no, I’ll leave that to Kelley.” She says it without thinking about it. She’s focused only on Ceaser, like Kelley’d told her to do. The rumble of laughter from the crowd startles her. She’d kind of forgotten about them, for a second. 

“I take it you mean Kelley O’Hara? Your Mentor, right?” Lindsey nods and a murmur of recognition filters through the crowd. People know Kelley. They love her, despite her reputation for being brash and a little uncooperative. She’s funny and she’s _ real _ now that she’s outside of the arena. “You and Kelley get along well, then?”

“Not at first,” Lindsey says, taking a seat when Ceaser gestures for her to. She waits until he sits, first, before mirroring him, legs crossed tightly. She rests her trembling hands on her knees to get them to stop and leans towards him conspiratorially. “Actually, for the first twenty-four hours, she didn’t even really speak to me.”

“Oh no?” Caesar Flickerman chuckles good-naturedly and eggs her on. “How did you get her to open up to you?”

“I stole her whisky.”

The audience laughs again and Lindsey feels herself relax, just a little bit. 

“Oh no. I bet she wasn’t happy with you…”

“Actually,” Lindsey says, ignoring the people watching and leaning further towards Caesar, like they’re just having a regular conversation. “I think she was kinda into it. I don’t think people disagree with her a lot, you know?”

“Oh, I know _ I _ don’t ever disagree with Kelley O’Hara. The last time I did that, she proved me very, very wrong. You remember that, don’t you?” 

While he’s busy pandering to the crowd a bit, Lindsey chances a glance at Kelley, who’s shaking her head and stifling a laugh off stage. She catches Lindsey staring at her and waves her back to Flickerman. 

Lindsey looks back at him just as he finishes a question. He smiles at her expectantly and Lindsey just blinks back. “Sorry,” she says, feeling a blush rising on her cheeks. “I missed what you said.” The people watching make noises of disapproval and she hurries to correct her mistake. “Because I was busy thinking about her.”

Flickerman clicks his tongue sympathetically. “Ah, well, lucky for you I was asking about that. You’re the first Volunteer we’ve had from a lower District in…” He pauses like he has to think about it even though everyone _ knows _ that he knows that information like the back of his hand. “Fifty years. What made you do it?”

“I had to,” Lindsey replies simply. When Caesar raises an eyebrow at her, she keeps talking. “If I didn’t volunteer to take Emma’s place, Emily would have. And I couldn’t let that happen.” 

“So you did this for _ Emily _ Sonnett?” 

“I mean, I did it for both of them, but mostly for Emily, yeah.” Lindsey looks away from the interviewer to find a camera and offers it an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Emma. Nothing personal.” 

A wave of laughter rolls through the crowd. 

When they quiet down, Caesar has one more question for her. “Why?”

Lindsey dreads this question. She wants to save this for when she’s at home, with Emily, and no one else. She’d even told Kelley she wouldn’t say it if he asked her but Kelley had been _ adamant _ that this was important as part of her story. 

Lindsey clears her throat and looks down. The tears pricking the corners of her eyes aren’t fake. She wipes them away in annoyance with the back of her hand even though Flickerman offers her a tissue. She gives him a tight-lipped smile. 

“Because I love her.” 

It hangs there, between them, for a second. The people in the auditorium are quiet. Then, they gasp almost collectively. 

“You…?” He’s prompting her. Lindsey kind of wants to punch him. 

Instead, she just nods. “I love Emily. I love her enough to go into the arena instead of her because she’s kind of a peanut. Like, she’s feisty. Don’t get me wrong. She’s like a little tornado, sometimes. But I think I have a better shot at getting back home and, well, I have to. I have to get back to her.” 

Flickerman dabs at his own eyes and Lindsey thinks she’s probably got them. 

“Well, I hope you do, Lindsey.” He takes one of her hands in both of his and she tries to smile again.

“Yeah. Me, too.” 

“Lindsey Horan everyone!” The crowd roars its approval while Lindsey makes her way off stage. 

Kelley is waiting for her. She hands her a bottle of water. She doesn’t say anything.

“What? I did what you said. I even _ cried _ , which you _ didn’t _ tell me to do.” 

Kelley nods. “You did good, kid.” There’s something else, something that Kelley’s not saying, but Lindsey doesn’t ask.

She can’t take any more bad news right now. 

-

One of the first things Kelley told her was not to show all of her cards in open training, so Lindsey’s spending most of her time at a table with various plants and a key to identify them. There’s one other girl standing there, too. 

She’s on the complete opposite side of the table and she keeps picking one of the leaves up, examines it carefully, and then nods without even having to look at the key.

She’s not particularly tall or imposing. Lindsey tries to remember which District she came from and keeps coming up empty. 

“You’re good at this,” she observes, breaking the silence between them. 

The girl looks up and smiles wryly. “We have a lot of forests in 12.” 

Lindsey still can’t remember this girl’s name despite having seen all of the tributes during the opening ceremony. When she doesn’t say anything, the girl from 12 takes pity on her. She even extends her hand like some kind of truce. 

Lindsey takes it. She likes her already. “I’m Mal.”

“Lindsey.”

Mal chuckles as she takes her hand back. “Yeah, I know. We all know about the girl who volunteered.” Lindsey can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. She thinks, maybe, the kids in the lower districts get it. She’s gotten some tentative smiles from people from eleven and ten. 

The tributes from the first four Districts, the ones who _ train _ for the Games even though you’re not supposed to, who volunteer for the chance to bring their family and their District glory, _ they _ watch her out of the corners of their eyes. 

“How do you know what’s okay to eat?” Lindsey asks, picking up a branch from a berry bush and examining the fruit.

Mal swats it away from her. “That’s Nightlock, first of all, so stay away from it.” Lindsey cranes her neck to look at the guidebook and sees that Nightlock is fatal within minutes. She makes a face and points to another fruit.

“What about that one?”

“That?” Mal picks one of the berries from the branch, pops it into her mouth and chews thoughtfully. “That’s a raspberry.” 

Lindsey immediately likes Mal. She could have easily lied to her about the dangerous fruit or turned her away from the safe ones, but she spends the next ten minutes teaching her which ones are safe to eat and which ones to avoid at all costs. 

It doesn’t really make a ton of sense because only one person can win, but Kelley had insisted that a person needed allies to make it far in the Games. When Lindsey had asked about _ Kelley’s _ allies, she’d gone all stone-faced and quiet and went to get another drink, so she’s not sure what type of people her mentor teamed up with.

“Mal!” Someone calls from across the room. She looks between her and Lindsey and shakes her head a fraction of an inch. 

Mal shakes hers back a little more obviously. 

“Don’t mind her,” she says as she beckons the brunette over with a wave. “Rose thinks we’re all gonna end up getting picked off by the Careers if we stand too close together.” 

“What are you doing?” The girl, presumably Rose, hisses as she approaches. 

Mal holds up a leaf. “Identifying plants with Lindsey because if she’s not careful, a tree is gonna kill her before someone else has the chance to.” 

Rose sizes Lindsey up. Even though Lindsey has at least five inches on her, she goes toe-to-toe with her and tips her chin up a little bit and narrows her eyes. 

“What’s your angle?”

Lindsey presses her lips together to keep from cracking up. “My...angle?”

“Yeah. What are you doing with Mal?”

“Rose-”

“Talking?” Lindsey looks over Rose’s shoulder at Mal, who’s reaching for Rose’s sleeve. “Like she said, I’d probably die trying to eat a...what was this one?”

Mal gives her a wide-eyed look when she says “_ Nightlock _.”

“Well, maybe that’s for the best.”

“Rose!”

Lindsey _ does _ laugh a little bit, then, and takes a step back and away from the pair, holding her hands up palm-out in surrender. “Okay, God, it was nice talking to you, Mal.” 

-

Two days later, Lindsey’s standing with the boy from District eleven trying to figure out how to load an arrow onto a bow when a scuffle breaks out near the weights. Lindsey only looks up for a second. She’s not really trying to get involved in whatever is going on over there. Usually, it’s the kids from the first four Districts hoarding all of the weights. It’s the same story today, though there’s someone -a much _ shorter _ someone- in the middle of four much taller kids. 

Lindsey sighs. She looks around the training center for Mal and doesn’t see her. She thinks about letting Rose figure it out herself, but then the girl from 3 decides to shove Rose two-handedly. She stumbles over one of the weights scattered on the floor and hits the ground. 

She sighs again, sets her shoulders, and crosses the room in three quick strides. “Hey!” 

At first, no one even bothers to look at her. She has to wedge herself between Rose and the group to get them to acknowledge her at all. 

Lindsey doesn’t look at them, either. She has her back to them, which she would never do if the Games were on. But it’s in the rules. They’re not supposed to use anything in this room on one another. They’re not even really supposed to _ touch _ each other. Lindsey’s annoyed that no one’s intervening from the Capitol. This isn’t supposed to be _ her _ job.

She crouches down and offers Rose a hand up. Rose stares at it for a second, then at the group of Careers behind her. The decision seems to weigh on her and Lindsey quirks a brow at her. Eventually, Rose takes her hand and Lindsey hauls her to her feet. 

Then, she turns around. “Leave her alone.”

“Or what?” One of the boys says, rolling his shoulders and clenching his jaw. 

Lindsey just straightens up to her full height and crosses her arms loosely. “Or else you get to deal with _ me _ once we get in there. Fuck off.” 

Beside her, Rose snorts. The boy bristles a little bit, like he’s going to hit her and Lindsey waits for it. She doesn’t know what would happen if he _ did _ hit her, but she can’t imagine it’d be particularly pleasant. 

Instead, the girl from his District pops up behind him and puts a comforting hand on his forearm. He looks at her, then back at Lindsey, and shrugs her off, stalking off towards the target range. 

“Don’t mind him. He’s just eager to get started.” She holds her hand out for Lindsey to shake. Lindsey keeps her arms crossed. “You know,” the girl says, circling the pair of them like some kind of big cat sizing up its prey. “We could use you. The people love a volunteer. We could protect you, Nine.” 

Lindsey gives her a close-lipped smile. She does not shake her hand. She just shrugs. “I think I’m good.” 

Rose coughs to hide another laugh and, together, they leave the training area. Rose gives her a once-over, like she’s meeting her for the first time. 

“Fine. Truce.” She holds her hand out. Lindsey _ does _ take hers. 

-  
There aren’t many wealthy people in District 9. 

They’re farmers, and most of their produce goes back to the Capitol, anyway. The mayor is probably the richest non-Victor in the entire District, and she’s not going to have to convince Lindsey’s dad to sponsor her. 

Still, it’s something she can do and it’s better than sitting in her house watching her sister stress clean for the twelfth time in a week. 

She stands in Town Square with her dog. Bagel’s gotten bigger over the last couple of months, but she still only reaches Emily’s waist when she tells her to _ beg _ and tosses a piece of chicken at her. 

“Come on, girl, spin!” Bagel does. She drops back to her paws and chases her tail so quickly she looks like a white-gray blur. 

People are starting to notice her. She has Bagel balance a ball on her snout and when she snaps her fingers, the dog tips her head back and catches the ball between her teeth. Emily crouches down to have Bagel give her five and she does, easily. 

“Bagel, stay.” She does. Emily cups her hands around her mouth as a makeshift microphone. “Now that I have your attention, can I talk to you guys about Lindsey Horan?”

Several people scatter, but a few linger. Emily talks to an older couple who own the biggest farm in town for half an hour about Lindsey. 

“Why are you so focused on getting her sponsors anyway?” 

Emily tips her head. The question doesn’t really make sense to her. 

“Because I love her.” 

The gentleman smiles fondly at Emily and then at his wife. 

“Right answer. She’s got my support.”

-

Late that night, Lindsey sits in the main room of the suite, the only light coming from the giant video screen against the wall. She’s got Kelley’s Games highlights playing. With the remote, she’s able to focus in on certain tributes, and she really only cares about Kelley, anyway.

She was so _ young _ when she was Reaped. She looks pretty much the same, all messy hair and freckles and lanky limbs. She doesn’t flinch when her name is called and she spends her training time with this dark-haired girl from District 4 who had, for some reason, taken Kelley under her wing. 

For her private training session, Kelley showed off her knot-tying skills to construct a rope that reached the ceiling, lassoed it on a hook, and climbed to the top where she’d promptly flipped off the game makers. 

They’d given her a 2 for her efforts. 

“Turn that off, Lindsey.”

She jumps nearly a foot in the air. Kelley’s standing in the hallway, her shoulders tense and her hands curled into fists. Kelley hasn’t called her by her full name since that first day. It feels weird. 

Lindsey, wearing a blanket like a cape and curled up on one end of the couch, sits up a little bit. 

“I was just-”

“I know what you were doing.” Kelley walks further into the room and stands directly in front of her. “ Turn it off.” 

Lindsey gets to her feet. She doesn’t like the idea of being looked down on, especially not by Kelley, of all people. She raises her chin almost defiantly and holds the remote out of Kelley’s reach. “Why? I’m just trying to learn from you.”

“Because it’s _ private _.”

“It’s not. The tributes before me had access to these tapes and I’m pretty sure the people in the Capitol can go back and watch whatever Games they want.”

Kelley’s teeth are gritted. “That’s different. Would you just turn it off?” Her voice changes at the end, going from angry to something more like sad. 

Lindsey listens to thirteen-year-old Kelley talk about someone named Alex for five seconds before hitting pause and handing the remote over. Kelley’s shoulders visibly relax while she turns the screen off entirely.

“Go to bed. You have a big day tomorrow.” 

“Yes, mom,” Lindsey chirps, gathering her blanket and heading down the hallway toward her bedroom. 

As she goes, she hears the television click back on. 

-

Lindsey sits on the floor in the hallway between Rose and Mal on the final day of training. She’s not really sure what she’s going to do for her private session with the game makers, but she remembers Kelley encouraging her not to do _ too _ well. 

One by one, they’re called into the training area, first the boy, and then the girl from each District, starting at 1. The kids from the early Districts are confident, but with each person that goes through the double doors and into the room, there’s someone panicking in the corridor.

Tyler, the boy from 9, is rocking back and forth, arms locked around his knees. Lindsey kind of feels like she should say something, but she’s trying not to get too attached to any of these people. 

She’s not going to go after Tyler. Or Rose. Or Mal. That would be stupid. But she also doesn’t want to get close enough to hurt too much when she loses them. 

“Rose Lavelle!” 

Rose pops to her feet, gives Lindsey and Mal a salute, and disappears. 

Lindsey leans her head against the wall. She counts to a hundred. Twice. 

Finally, after what seems like hours, they’re calling her name. She gives Mal a half smile and a shrug and walks through the open doors and into the training room. 

Lindsey has no idea what to do. She knows she’s strong, but that seems obvious. She’s not the fastest person out there. She can’t do anything with those computer pieces. She’s no artist. But she _ can _ identify plants, now, though, thanks to Mal. 

She has an idea.

Clearing her throat, she looks up at the game makers, eating and drinking behind their protective glass. They’re not even paying attention to her. 

“Lindsey Horan,” she calls out. A few of them look up from their plates. “District nine.” 

They’re going back to their meal. Lindsey doesn’t really care. She gathers up a variety of plants from their station and then promptly climbs up a tree right in front of their window and perches on one of the branches. She raps on the glass with her fist. The Peacekeeper in the corner of the room shifts, but doesn’t make a move. 

Lindsey holds up a poisonous mushroom. “So this is a very poisonous mushroom that can kill somebody in ten minutes.” 

She takes a bite. The game makers are paying attention, now. They’re chattering among themselves, probably worrying about what they’ll do if one of their tributes _ dies _ before they make it to the arena. 

(Lindsey knows what they’ll do; the tributes with siblings still eligible were told they’d go in their place. _ She _ was told _ Emily _ would take hers.)

“But don’t freak out. I have the antidote.” She holds up the plant Mal had shown her earlier in the week. She crushes the leaf in her hand and places it in her mouth. It tastes awful, but she chews it up and swallows.

And then she waits. 

The game makers go back to their meal for another nine minutes. Lindsey’s fingertips start to go numb and she wonders, in a panic, if she fucked up and grabbed the wrong one. Her breathing is getting tight, but she can’t tell if that’s because of the mushroom she’s just eaten or because she’s having a panic attack. 

She forces herself to slide down the tree trunk and sits on the floor instead. 

One thing she can see: the targets where the other tributes have murdered countless dummies.

One thing she can hear: the chatter of the game makers above her.

One thing she can taste: the bile rising in her own throat at the thought of accidentally dying in this room.

One thing she can smell: the antiseptic of cleaning supplies because this place is always spotless.

One thing she can feel: the cool metal of the necklace Emily had given her against her throat. She presses her shaking fingertips against it and counts her breaths, willing her heart rate to slow down. 

“Miss Horan?” Someone says over the intercom. “It’s been fifteen minutes. If that was all…”

Lindsey stands up. Her legs feel like jelly. She peers up at the guy behind the glass, walks over to the plant station, and picks up a few blueberries. She lifts her hand in the air in a mock wave as she leaves, popping a few of the berries into her mouth as she goes.

-

“Stop moving.” Kelley kicks her in the ribs with her heel and Lindsey wiggles away from her, breath leaving her in a gasp. 

“Hey.” Lindsey scoots forward, out of Kelley’s reach, and the braid she’d been working on for the last fifteen minutes falls loose. Kelley kicks her again. “I have to go fight for my life tomorrow. Be nice to me.”

“Don’t remind me.” 

They’re sitting in the main room of their suite, Tyler dozing in the corner of the sofa and Mark nursing a glass of scotch. Lindsey sits on the floor between Kelley’s legs and Kelley reaches for her shoulder, gently guiding her to lean back again. 

Her fingers card lightly through Lindsey’s hair a few times and Lindsey settles against Kelley’s knees, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. She starts braiding again. 

“Aw, Kel, are you gonna miss me?”

“You know I will you asshole,” Kelley says, tone back to normal, and Lindsey feels a little bit better. She doesn’t like the idea of Kelley worrying about her much more than she likes the idea of Emily worrying about her. She sort of wishes they could watch together, take care of each other while _ she _ can’t take care of them.

“It’s on!” Mark practically yells, waking the poor kid at the end of the couch. Tyler sits up, his hair sticking up in all directions, and rubs his eyes. 

The rankings start from District 1 and work their way up. 

The tributes from the first four Districts all range from 8 to 10. Behind Lindsey, Kelley scoffs at each one except, for some reason, for the girl from District 4 who earns a nine. 

Photographs of each tribute appear before their scores. Lindsey kind of wonders what Rose showed the Gamemakers to get a seven.

Tyler gets a three. He looks like he’s going to cry. 

Kelley ties the braid off even though it’s only halfway done so she can follow the boy down the hallway. Lindsey watches her sling an arm around his shoulders before glancing back at the screen. 

Her picture pops up, hovers for a few seconds, and then disappears.

The number eleven appears on the screen. 

“Whoa,” Mark says from the other side of the room, leaning forward in his seat. “Eleven? What’d you do in there?”

Lindsey just shrugs. It’s a good score, but it’s not what she and Kelley had talked about. She was _ supposed _ to land near the middle of the pack so that the Careers didn’t all gang up on her right off the bat. 

“Well, that wasn’t what we talked about, but I guess you’re not as hopeless as I thought.” Kelley’s back, leaning over the back of the couch and holding two glasses of a clear liquid. She shakes the one in her right hand and Lindsey takes it. 

“Cheers,” Kelley says, clinking the shot glass against Lindsey’s. She doesn’t drink it, though. She just holds eye contact until _ Lindsey _ tips her head back and takes it. It burns all the way down and Kelley laughs at her when she starts choking on it, then promptly throws back her shot.

“God, I really _ am _ gonna miss you, Horan.”

-

Emily can’t sleep.

Her mind keeps racing and her fingertips are tingling. She slips out of bed, careful not to wake her sister, and slips outside. 

It’s pitch black outside, but she can still see Bagel as she comes bounding up to her from the barn, tongue lolling and tail wagging. “Hey, good girl,” Emily murmurs, ducking down to pat the dog’s sides and burying her face briefly into Bagel’s fur. She breathes in and tries not to cry and squeezes the dog tightly. 

She wriggles a little bit and lets out a low whine from the back of her throat, but Bagel doesn’t pull away from her. Emily tries not to think about how she only has this dog because of Lindsey and fails. 

“Come on, Bitty,” Emily murmurs as she pulls away. The dog trots along behind her as she walks further away from the dimly lighting of her house and into the field where she and Lindsey had camped out on countless nights. 

She sinks down in the grass, ignoring the cold she can feel into her bones, and drapes an arm over Bagel who is leaning in close. 

It’s a clear, cloudless night. Stars decorate the sky. Emily connects the Big Dipper until she stares blankly at the impossibly bright new moon.

“I miss you,” she says to no one.

Bagel whines in agreement.

-

Lindsey can’t sleep, either. She’s sitting on the tiny balcony outside of their suite and wonders if the drop is far enough to-

She shakes her head to clear that thought and looks away from the sidewalk below, forcing herself to look at the sky instead.

The city lights are too bright to see any stars, but she can just barely make out the moon over the skyline. She hugs her knees to her chest and thinks about Emily and wonders if she’s awake, too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ck back on her "i have multiple multi-chapter works in progress" bullshit. 
> 
> kelley o'hara plays -and was always going to play- a pretty significant role in this story. just a warning if that's something you're not vibing with rn.
> 
> there's also death in here. (but you probably knew that).
> 
> onward!

Lindsey is alone.

The room is windowless and the walls are all black. Her heart feels like it’s in her throat and she feels like she can’t get enough air. Her vision is starting to get spotty. 

She clutches the charm upon her necklace like a lifeline.

“Linds?” 

She spins around so quickly she almost knocks Kelley right over. Kelley holds her hands up and tries to give her a smile. It doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“Oh my god. What are you doing here?”

Kelley shrugs and holds her arms out. “I’m here to see you off.” 

Lindsey throws herself at Kelley. Her entire body is shaking. Kelley wraps her arms around Lindsey and gives her a squeeze. “I don’t usually do this. I usually just let the prep team handle seeing you guys off.”

“Why are you here, then?” Lindsey mumbles into Kelley’s neck. She’s ducking down to do it, letting Kelley wrap herself around her as much as physically possible. 

Kelley swallows around a lump in her throat. Her voice, thankfully, sounds normal when she talks. “I dunno. I guess I like you or something.” She gently extricates herself from Lindsey’s grip and holds her at arm’s length by her upper arms.

Lindsey doesn’t look herself. Her shoulders are hunched and she’s curled in on herself, which isn’t how she’s carried herself through this entire process. It’s like she’s trying to make herself smaller, which just isn’t going to work.

“Hey,” Kelley says, getting her thumb under Lindsey’s chin and lifting so that their eyes meet. “When you get back, I’ll stop drinking. That’s the deal.” 

Lindsey’s mouth twitches. One dimple appears. Kelley slides her hand along Lindsey’s face instead, thumb brushing across her cheekbone. " _ When _ I get back, huh?”

“We had a deal, right?” Kelley takes her hand back and holds it out for Lindsey to shake. 

She does, biting back a nervous laugh. “Okay. Deal.” 

An alarm blares overhead. 

Lindsey flinches.

Kelley pulls her back in by the hand she’s still holding to give her one last, firm hug. She cradles the back of Lindsey’s head in one hand and her voice is barely above a whisper as she says “Give ‘em hell for me, kid.” 

Then, suddenly, they’re jerked apart. A Peacekeeper pulls Kelley backwards just as a glass tube descends from the ceiling, trapping Lindsey beneath it like a bug in a jar. 

“Kel!” She yells, her voice echoing back at her from the glass. She pounds on it with her fists.

Kelley yanks her arm back from the guard and places her palm flat against the glass, on top of Lindsey’s. Lindsey can’t feel her anymore, can barely remember it even though they were  _ just _ hugging a minute ago. 

“Kelley!”

“Hey, hey, hey. Remember to breathe. Stay on your disc. Whatever you do-”

And then she’s gone.

-  
The first thing Lindsey notices when she’s spat onto her metal disc is that it’s so  _ bright _ .

It’s not even sunny outside but compared to the dimly lit room she was just in, it’s blinding. She blinks a few times and looks across from her.

The twenty-three other kids are spread out in a circle at the middle of what appears to be a deep valley, each standing on a metal disc similar to the one Lindsey is perched upon. At the center of the group is the cornucopia full of weapons, scattered food, and various other supplies. Lindsey’s eyes dart away from it quickly. She knows what she’s looking for there, but she and Kelley decided that she shouldn’t waste too much time with it. 

The arena looks vast and the tributes have been dumped into a valley. There are rock walls surrounding them on all sides, but three sides are steeper than the others. One has hand and footholds she’ll be able to climb, Lindsey thinks. 

It’d help if she had some rope. 

The glass tube lifts and Lindsey carefully steps to the middle of her disc, Kelley’s words ringing in her ears. 

“Tyler,” someone’s saying from her left. Lindsey looks at the girl and then across the valley, where a boy is crouching on his disc. “Ty, be care-”

She doesn’t even finish the sentence before the disc explodes, taking the boy from her own district with it. Lindsey’s mouth is dry. She stares at the place where the boy had been. One of his boots is still there. 

At least she won’t have to worry about killing the only other person from her own District.

She hates herself for thinking that.

Suddenly, a buzzer sounds. From above them, a voice echoes against the valley walls. “Tributes! Now begins the 99th annual Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor.” The buzzer sounds again, and it’s chaos.

People are yelling. There’s a flash of movement from Lindsey’s right. Most of the kids are heading for the walls, though a few tributes are making moves towards the cornucopia. 

Lindsey hesitates and that’s her first mistake.

She knows she has to go on instinct, here. Waiting will get her killed. Something rams into her from her right side and Lindsey swings out with her fist, connecting solidly with a boy smaller than she is. He falls and Lindsey leaps over his prone form without looking to see if he gets up. 

Her heart is racing almost as fast as her legs. Instead of breaking towards the rock wall, Lindsey runs headlong for the cornucopia. She scoops up a sleeping bag and tucks it under one arm. She ignores a few heavy looking jackets in favor of grabbing packages of food. She’s trying to shove the food into a backpack she’s just snagged when something hits her in the side of the face.

Lindsey staggers. She can’t see out of her left eye because something warm and sticky is creeping down her face and has gotten into her eye. She ends up on her back. 

The kid from District 2 is holding a broad-edged sword. It takes her a few seconds to realize he probably hit her in the side of the head with it. Lindsey reacts before he draws back to hit her again and kicks him right in the groin. 

He howls in pain and crumples. Lindsey doesn’t ignore  _ this _ one. She’s never used a sword before and she doesn’t think now’s the time to start, but she’s got a rock the side of her fist in one hand and she brings it down over his head with a sickening crack. 

Once, twice, three times...and then she pulls back. She sees the light leave his eyes.

Lindsey springs to her feet. She grabs her stuff. She throws up. 

Then, she runs as fast as she can.

-  
Kelley comes home. 

When she shows up in her parents’ kitchen, Emily’s heart drops to the floor. The only reason Kelley would be back is if-

She doesn’t let herself finish that thought. It’s barely been a few hours. She hasn’t had a chance to watch, because she’s been spending time at the Horans, but she doesn’t think anything could have happened yet.

“Hey, don’t give me that look. I’m here as the bearer of bad news but not, like, the bad news you think.”

Kelley looks like she’s aged five years in a couple of months. There are dark circles under her eyes that look like permanent bruises. Her lips are chapped. Her hair’s greasy and pulled back into a knot. She doesn’t look Capitol presentable at all. 

“What are you doing here?”

“They know about you, you know.”

Emily thinks about what Lindsey said in her interview. Her stomach flips like it always does when she thinks about Lindsey. “Yeah,” Emily says slowly. When Kelley doesn’t say anything else, Emily sighs. “And?”

“And,” Kelley says, walking around the table in the Sonnetts’ kitchen. It’s about then that Emily realizes her family isn’t here. “They want you to come watch. With us.” 

Emily pales at that. “...what do you mean?”

Kelley grits her teeth. “They think,” she begins, and Emily can tell that Kelley is trying to think about how to say this without hearing about it later. There must be ears everywhere. “That because of the...circumstances...you would be a very interesting person to have in the Capitol.” 

Emily laughs humorlessly. Kelley doesn’t return it. 

“...do I have a choice?”

“I mean, there’s always a choice, Sonny,” Kelley says robotically, tipping her chin towards the door. It opens and three Peacekeepers accompany the rest of Emily’s family inside. 

Emma looks like she’s going to pass out. Her mother is crying. Her dad struggles against his guard’s hold and the Peacekeeper hits him with the butt end of his weapon. 

Emily stands up so quickly the room spins. Her hands are curled into fists at her sides. Kelley holds her gaze from across the kitchen table. “You can let them go.” Emily’s proud of how level her voice is. “I’m coming.” 

“Great,” Kelley says, pressing her palms together. “I’ll see you out there.” She gives Emily’s shoulder a squeeze as she passes by and presses something into Emily’s hand. Emily closes her fist around it. 

“Do you mind if I say goodbye real quick? I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.” Emily smiles sweetly at the Peacekeepers, who exchange a glance.

“Two minutes.” 

It’s more than she thought she’d get. Emily flings her arms around Emma and promises she’ll be back, soon. Her parents envelop her in a hug. “Don’t worry. I’ll be okay.” 

She sounds more sure than she feels.

-  
Ten minutes later, she’s sitting across from Kelley on the train. Now that they’re en route, there are no Peacekeepers. There will be more waiting for them when the train stops, but there’s nowhere for them to go with the speed they’re traveling, 

Emily uncurls her fist. 

“Do you want me to give you two some privacy?” Kelley jokes, getting to her feet. 

Emily just shakes her head. A wrinkled piece of paper with a careful script rests in her lap. It’s folded into eighths and there are two letters on the front.

_ Em _

With shaky hands, Emily unfolds the letter. Lindsey's handwriting runs off of the page, getting messier with each sentence. 

_ Em, _

_ I know you’re probably mad, but I’m not going to apologize. I knew that you’d volunteer for Emma yourself if you thought about it too much and we both know that you’re not cut out for the Games. I didn’t want to have to watch you in the arena and try to get back to all of us knowing how unfair they’d make it for you. I won’t apologize for what I did, but I’ll say sorry in advance in case I don’t get to do it in person.  _

_ Sorry for putting you through all of this. Sorry for only kissing you once before we had to say goodbye. Sorry for not telling you sooner how I feel. It’s not fair to leave you with all of this, but Kelley says you shouldn’t go into the arena with something to say because you never know if you’ll get the chance again and she’s standing right behind me while I write this, so I kind of have to. _

_ Do you remember that night on your parents’ farm? When you and I layed out in the grass and looked at the stars and talked all night? You said that no matter where we went, we’d always get to look at the same sky. I’m going to look at the same sky as you, every night, and if you do it, too, we’ll be together again.  _

_ I wish we could be together again for real now. I guess you’ll just have to wait until I come back. _

_ Love, _

_ Lindsey _

-  
The rocks are steeper than Lindsey thought they would be.

As soon as she finds a foothold, her hands slip a little bit on the rock face. She’s not very high up and drops down to a crouch instead of trying to stay on the rocks. She wishes she had a rope. 

When she turns around, Lindsey sees chaos before her. Kids are still scrambling for whatever they can reach at the cornucopia, which means she just sees bodies colliding and dropping when she turns back. 

And then, someone notices her. 

“Fuck.” It’s the girl from District 1 and she calls someone else over, the boy from her District who’s taller than Lindsey and has arms the size of her legs. Her heart is somewhere in her throat as she shifts to throw some of the stuff she’d grabbed from the cornucopia onto the ground.

She scans the contents for something useful. The backpack full of food. The sleeping bag. All of the stuff she’s grabbed seems so  _ useless _ now.

But there’s a rope around the sleeping bag, keeping it in its roll. She unties it with shaking fingers as the pair gets closer to her. She flings the backpack over her shoulders and abandons the sleeping bag while she hurries to replicate one of the knots Kelley had taught her.

It takes her three tries, but she manages, and flings the loop of rope into the air. It catches on a branch near the top of the wall and Lindsey tugs and the knot tightens. Using the rope as leverage, she starts climbing.

She only makes it a few yards up the rock wall when the girl latches her fingers around Lindsey’s ankle and  _ tugs. _

The rope goes taut and Lindsey slips a few inches down the rocks. The other tribute is almost upon them and Lindsey knows if they get her on the ground, she’s done. The charm from her necklace is digging into her neck and it reminds her of Emily. She lets the girl twist her by the ankle while she draws back her other foot and kicks her right in the jaw. 

It’s enough to knock the attacker off balance, and Lindsey uses the adrenaline coursing through her veins to put some distance between them and climb the rest of the way up. When she uses her arms to pull herself over the edge, she sees a stretch of green fields fading into deeper green jungle. It’s a perfect place to camp out.

When she turns back around, Lindsey sees that both of the Careers are pulling themselves up the rocks, too, using her rope. Below them, a crowd is gathering. Lindsey waits until the two are feet away from the top before untying the knot. She sees the panic in the boy’s eyes as he starts to fall. 

Lindsey doesn’t wait to see if they survive. It’s a big drop, but depending on how they land, they might make it. 

She can’t find it in her to care. 

Lindsey pulls her pack over her shoulder, lowers her shoulders, and runs.

-  
“Son. Sonny, come on.”

Emily presses her face into the cushions in an effort to get away from Kelley. She was  _ just _ getting to the good part in her dream. Lindsey was home. No one had gotten Reaped into the Hunger Games. In fact, there  _ were _ no Hunger Games in her dream world. They were sitting on her parents’ back porch, Bagel dozing between them with her head in Lindsey’s lap and Lindsey’s feet in Emily’s. The sun was setting and it framed Lindsey’s silhouette perfectly. Then she’d turned to look at Emily and-

“We’re here.”

“Go away. I’m busy.”

Kelley shoves a steaming mug into her hands and hauls her up by the front of her shirt. Emily complains until she tastes the scalding coffee. Then she curses instead. It doesn’t stop her from drinking it, though.

“...is there alcohol in this?”

Kelley grins coyly. She looks at a spot over Emily’s shoulder when she says “I made a deal with your girlfriend-”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“-that when she gets back home I have to stop drinking. That’s probably mine.” Kelley trades cups with her and takes a long sip, reveling in the burn with her caffeine. 

Emily takes a huge sip of her own black coffee and huffs out an annoyed sigh. “Why does this taste so good?”

“It’s Capitol coffee,” Kelley replies as she ushers her out of the train car and down the corridor. There are Peacekeepers waiting at the end of the hall and Kelley turns around, walking backwards like it’s nothing, and straightens Emily’s shirt collar. “So it’s probably not just caffeine.” 

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to make you look presentable. They really should have gotten you a prep team, too, if they’re going to use you like this.” 

“They don’t need me to look good.”

Kelley tucks a strand of hair behind Emily’s ear and rests her hands upon her shoulders. “Lindsey needs you to look good.”

Emily’s eyebrows pull together. “What do you mean?”

Throwing a look over her shoulder, Kelley hesitates. The guards are waiting for them. There’s not much time and there will be eyes on them as soon as they set foot on Capitol ground. It’s cruel, Kelley thinks, to put Emily through this. She already had to say goodbye to Lindsey. Forcing her into the spotlight when it hadn’t even been her name called is just cruel and unusual punishment.

But since when had the Capitol cared about that? Their idea of yearly entertainment is pitting twenty-four kids against each other in a fight to the death and broadcasting highlights every night. 

She stomps on one of Emily’s bootlaces and Emily stumbles forward a step, her coffee sloshing over the edge of her cup. 

“Whoa, Sonnett,” Kelley admonishes her. When Emily leans down to do up her shoelace, Kelley follows on the guise of retying the opposite lace. Their heads are so close together their foreheads touch. 

When Kelley speaks again, her lips are making words but no sound comes out. Emily has to  _ really _ focus to catch it. 

“You are as much part of Lindsey’s story as Lindsey is. If you sell this love story, it could save her life.” 

“It’s not a story.”

Kelley pops back to her feet and looks back at the Peacekeepers. She scoffs and rolls her eyes like she’s just as annoyed with Emily as they are. She even taps her foot impatiently. 

“Thought she wasn’t your girlfriend?” She mouths at her.

“She’s my best friend.”

“I’d hate to see what it takes to be your lover.” 

Kelley marches them to the door and gives the Peacekeepers a little salute. “Aren’t you guys ready yet?” She asks them, reaching past the pair to fling the doors of the passenger car open. 

As soon as she does, she’s met with waves of flashing lights and chatter that rises to a dull roar. She grits her teeth, braces herself, and holds an arm out for Emily to step out first. When Emily gets to the front of the train, she takes one look outside and then glances back to Kelley, her eyes wide like saucers. 

It would be funny if Kelley’s heart didn’t ache for her.

This is exactly the kind of thing she was trying to prevent when she stopped caring about her tributes. 

Now she cares about her tributes’ lovers. She’s gone soft in her old age. 

“Come on, Son. Smile for the camera.” The look on Kelley’s face just now is more like an animal baring its teeth. She gestures for Emily to step out first. 

Emily does. Then she immediately wishes she hadn’t. 

There are people pressing in on the walkway from all sides and they move as one towards her, like ocean waves ready to crash down. A row of Peacekeepers keeps the public at arm’s length as she trips her way down the sidewalk towards a building that reaches the sky. Lights flash and it’s hard to see anything. 

Then there’s a microphone in her face. 

“Emily, firstly, welcome to the Capitol.”

Emily stares at the reporter, who is dressed head to toe in diamonds and has purple hair. She forces a sheepish smile and clutches the hem of her sweater for dear life. “Thank you. It’s my first time here.” She decides it’s best to stick to the truth even if she’s not sure what she’s doing. 

She wishes Kelley were closer.

She doesn’t know her that well but Kelley had always been around when she and Emma were younger. She always felt kind of safe with her. Then she’d gone into the arena and came back a different person.

The Sonnetts didn’t see much of Kelley after that. 

The guards are keeping them apart, though, and Emily is pretty sure that’s by design. She looks at Kelley, just for a second, and the reporter and her cameras catch on. 

“Are you nervous?”

A blush colors her cheeks. She clasps her hands behind her back and leans in to the microphone. 

“A little. I haven’t gotten to see any of the Games yet and I’m nervous for Lindsey. How’s she doing?”

The reporter smiles and Emily sees that all of her teeth are sharpened like canines. It takes all of her resolve not to shy away from her. 

“You’ll have to watch for yourself, I’m afraid.”

“You’d tell me if she…if she wasn’t okay, right?” Emily surprises herself with how little she has to act. The worry is real. 

“Oh dear. I’m afraid I can’t.” But the woman winks at her and relief floods Emily’s veins. She feels strong enough to walk the rest of this path now even as the cameras snap photos and Capitol citizens try to get her attention.

Kelley catches up with her at the door to the building and flings an arm around her shoulders. 

“Holy shit, Sonny.” She leans her head against Emily’s and laughs a little bit uncontrollably. No one seems to notice or care. “You’re  _ good _ at this.”

“At what?”

“The game.”

-   
Lindsey has never run so fast or so far in her life. 

The one time she’d gotten close was with Emily.

District 9 has an electric fence that separates it from the neighboring districts. It’s not active. She and Emily had tested it once. They were fifteen and naive. They’d brought a bottle of Lindsey’s mom’s expensive wine, the stuff they only brought out on holidays, and went beyond the fence to count the stars. 

They’d gotten drunk on a few sips of wine and on each other and talked about what they’d give to live somewhere else, where the Games were just a rumour. 

They’d shared their first few kisses that night, stumbled through it with clattering teeth and chapped lips. 

Lindsey would do anything to get back there.

Even though her legs ache and her chest burns, she keeps going. She makes it across the expanse of field without seeing another living being and darts into the jungle. The trees get thicker and thicker the farther into the jungle she goes. She keeps moving until the trees are too thick for her to go any further without turning herself sideways.

Then Lindsey does just that and creeps deeper into the jungle. She walks until she can’t anymore. At first, she doesn’t know why she can’t keep going. There are trees in front of her but it’s like walking right into a glass wall. Lindsey places her hand at arm’s length and presses. 

The glass doesn’t give but the light refracts a little bit, the reflection bouncing. 

“A giant mirror?” She says to no one. 

Lindsey takes a half a step back and everything comes into focus. 

She doesn’t like what she sees.

The girl staring back at her is hardly recognizable. She’s not wearing makeup like she was when she was still in the Capitol, but their imprint on her remains. Her hair is lighter than it’s been since she was a little kid. Her cheeks are fuller from a month and a half of eating well, but there are dark circles beneath her eyes that remind her of someone else’s. When she lifts a hand to rub at a smudge on her nose, she notices that her fingernails are still painted an immaculate white, but they’re starting to chip at the edges. 

Lindsey turns away from her reflection.

And right into the wrong end of a bow and arrow. 

Rose Lavelle stands on the other end of it. She’s got blood smeared across her forehead. Lindsey can’t tell if it’s Rose’s or somebody else’s. She’s afraid to ask. 

Suddenly she sees everything sharpener. She sees the way Rose’s jaw clenches and the way she swallows. She sees her pull back on the arrow, sees the way her eyes harden, the little twitch of her fingers as she makes the choice.

And then she sees Mal popping up out of the shadows, watches as she puts a hand on Rose’s shoulder and notices the way that’s all it takes for Rose to put her weapon down. 

“Remember this,” is all Rose says as she walks away from Lindsey, never once turning her back on her. 

Mal stands across from her in the dark. She shakes her head and offers Lindsey the faintest smile. 

“Only if we get to three,” she says and holds out her hand. 

Lindsey doesn’t hesitate to take it. She gives it a firm shake. “Deal.” 

“Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Hopefully not.” 

Mal does turn around when she leaves. 

Lindsey doesn’t even consider it. 

She waits until their footsteps fade away. Then she climbs up a tree. 

Up here, concealed by the branches, she can’t see the ground. She figures that means anyone on the ground won’t be able to see her, either. She shifts a bit so that she can brace her back against the trunk of the tree and uses the strap from her backpack as a makeshift rope. She lengthens it and loops it around her waist and then around the branch. 

She’s usually a pretty still sleeper but she’s also never tried to sleep in a tree before. 

Just as Lindsey wedges her backpack behind her like a makeshift pillow, music echoes over the field. Trumpets play them in. 

Then a cannon goes off. Normally this happens every time someone dies but Lindsey guesses that they make an exception during the cornucopia melee. She counts out each one and is surprised to find that twelve of them had died the first day.

Lindsey had definitely killed one of them. She doesn’t think too hard about the two careers who were trying to corner her at the cornucopia. If they’re dead the better for her. 

In the sky, pictures of the tributes who have already died flicker. Her district partner, Tyler, flickers first. Lindsey looks away. She didn’t know him very well and didn’t try to get to know him in the Capitol. It would just hurt more in the end. 

She sees the boy she beat to death with the rock and reminds herself that he tried to kill her first.

The boy who tried to catch her in the valley didn’t die but the girl did. Lindsey’s heart sinks. Her pal will probably be out for revenge. 

Rose and Mal aren’t up there and Lindsey doesn’t know how to feel about it. She’s glad they’re not dead but that also means there’s a chance she might have to kill them herself. 

She’s not sure she can do it.

She feels the cold metal of her necklace press against the hollow of her throat. She thinks about Emily.

She knows she can do it.

(She just doesn’t want to.)

-   
“I don’t get it.”

Kelley presses her palm to her forehead and her tongue against the back of her front teeth. She sucks in a breath. “What don’t you get?” Her voice is steady but there’s a little edge to it that Emily doesn’t really like. 

“What I’m supposed to be doing. Like I get they want to milk this for what it’s worth but how is this supposed to help Lindsey?”

“Didn’t you bring anything dressier?” Kelley complains at her as she digs through Emily’s bag. Emily is sitting on the edge of a bed that’s way too big and way too soft for her. She probably slept two hours last night because her mind wouldn’t stop racing. At first she was just nervous about being on camera. Then she started thinking about how Lindsey was in the arena and how the Capitol wasn’t letting her watch anything beforehand because they were going to do a nightly recap show with her on it. 

Kelley had seen it, though. She wasn’t acting any differently but Emily doesn’t know that she  _ would _ . She fakes it for the Capitol once a year, does  _ just enough _ to keep them out of her hair. 

She doesn’t know if Kelley cares enough about Lindsey as a person to get broken if something happened to her. 

She doesn’t know Kelley well enough to know how she’d react. 

“That’s all I have. We don’t have money.” 

Kelley clicks her tongue and pulls a plaid flannel shirt out of Emily’s bag. “You could swim in this.”

“It’s Lindsey’s.”

Kelley’s eyes light up. She tosses it at Emily. 

“That’s perfect. Here.” Kelley flings the shirt at her and Emily tugs it on over the white cotton one she’s already wearing. She’s still working on doing up the buttons while Kelley digs around until she finds her father’s thick leather belt, the same one she’d worn to the Reaping. 

“Turn around.”

Emily does. She pops the last couple of buttons into place. The flannel is long enough to be a dress on her, hanging near her knees. She feels Kelley pull the belt tight around her waist and looks in the mirror. 

Her black tights are almost gray from being washed so many times and there are holes in the knees. Her leather boots are untied as always. They kind of match her dad’s belt. She rolls the sleeves of the shirt up around her elbows and reaches back to tie her hair up. 

Kelley’s still standing behind her with her hands on Emily’s shoulder. She gives them a little squeeze. 

“This is it.” 

“It is?”

“Yeah. You know what to tell them about it.”

Emily just nods. She knows what Kelley’s getting at. She won’t even have to pretend.

-   
Something is on fire. 

Lindsey is choking on the smoke. She’s on the ground. Had she fallen out of the tree? She’s so tired. She could curl up under the tree and sleep for hours. It wouldn’t hurt, probably, but it would be a slow way to go, suffocating on smoke until her lungs couldn’t get enough air. 

At least it wouldn’t be on the wrong end of a broadsword. 

“Lindsey?”

Suddenly, she’s awake. 

That’s  _ Emily’s _ voice. Why would they have Emily’s voice unless-

She starts running. 

She runs faster than she ever has before, even faster than when she was running  _ away _ from everyone the day before. Her muscles scream in protest but she ignores them. All she can hear is Emily’s voice in her ears. It’s even louder than her frantic heartbeat. 

Lindsey bursts into a clearing and is met with a wall of flames. They lick up the trees like kindling and burst into the sky. It’s so hot that she’s having trouble breathing again. 

But Emily’s voice is getting louder. It’s clearer here.

She’s on the other side of the fire.

“Emily!” Lindsey screams, not caring if she’s giving herself away. If she dies saving Emily again then so be it. When she doesn’t get a response, she squares her shoulders and stares into the flames. “Em, I’m coming!”

She runs right into them. 

It hurts. It’s worse than any shock from a Peacekeeper’s taser. It burns through her jacket and while the jumpsuit each tribute has been issued is fireproof in that it stays intact, it doesn’t protect her skin. She feels pinpricks of it as she sprints further out of the jungle and towards the open fields. 

Once she bursts through the trees and into it, she realizes that Emily isn’t there at all.

A flock of jabberjays is, though. One of them is screaming. It has Emily’s voice. 

Lindsey takes three steps into the middle of the pasture and snaps its neck in one swift motion. 

From the corner of her eye, Lindsey sees Rose appear and load an arrow. She turns around. If Rose is going to kill her, she’s going to have to look her in the eye to do it. 

The arrow sails through the air but Lindsey feels nothing. 

Then she sees the bird fall.

“Mal and I got separated when those idiots set that fire,” Rose says as she marches to Lindsey’s side. She’s shaking like a leaf even though it’s still hot as hell out here. Her voice remains solid, though. “It had her voice.” 

Lindsey winces. “The birds were to draw us out.” She’s just figured it out herself but now that Rose hasn’t murdered her, she feels like she’s gained an ally, even if it’s temporary.

“I have to find Mal.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Rose looks her up and down. She takes a step away from Lindsey and then starts walking back towards the woods. There’s still smoke rising. 

Rose already has one foot in the jungle when she looks back at her. 

“Are you coming or what?”

“You want me to?”

“No,” Rose replies with a laugh. “But I figure they’ll want to kill you before they kill me.” 

“Probably.” Lindsey looks out towards the valley. She can see a smaller cloud of smoke there, like from a campfire. She wonders if it’s the careers. She wonders if it’s worth checking. She wonders if Rose is going to kill her later. 

“Yeah,” she says, stepping back towards the trees. “I’m coming.”

-   
Caesar Flickerman is taller than Emily thought he would be. 

She meets him briefly off stage before her interview. She’s redoing her bun for the third time. Her hands are shaking. 

“Excuse me,” Caesar Flickerman says. His voice is deeper than Emily remembers it being. “You dropped this.” 

He holds Lindsey’s scrunchie in his palm.

It has roses on it. She’d taken her hair out of its ponytail and pressed it into Emily’s hand seconds before the Peacekeepers had dragged Emily out of the room. She snatches it back and then realizes that was probably rude. 

“Sorry,” she says quickly, twisting the scrunchie in her hands. “It’s just-”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Emily,” Caesar says seriously. He looks on stage as his name is announced. When he speaks again, his voice is back to the familiar, high-pitched one Emily recognizes. “I’ll see you out there.”

As soon as Caesar walks away, Kelley appears at her other side. She’s gripping a flask tightly in one hand. 

“What was that about?”

Emily slides the scrunchie over her wrist. “I dropped it. He was just giving it back.” She redoes her bun again. 

“He seemed...nice.”

Kelley takes a pull from her flask instead of answering. “Sonny,” she says and pauses to wipe her mouth. “He’s part of the problem.” 

“I know.”

“And he’s really good at the interviews. But don’t forget what we’re here for.”

Emily snaps the scrunchie against her wrist and nods. “Eyes on the prize.”

“Atta girl.” Kelley smooths Emily’s shirt collar down and tries to smooth the flyaway behind her ear but it stubbornly escapes again. 

From on stage, her name is announced. 

“That’s my cue.”

“Break a leg.”

“Let’s hope not.”

The lights are blinding as Emily steps onto the stage. She almost trips on her shoelaces as she walks to a stool across from Caesar. This is the same place the tributes had their pre-Games interviews, but there’s no live audience here, which Emily is grateful for. There’s just Caesar and a camera crew. If she looks straight ahead, she can pretend they’re just having a conversation. 

“Emily Sonnett!” Caesar crows. He stands and holds his hands out for Emily to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says like they hadn’t just met two minutes ago. 

Emily finds herself nodding. “Nice to meet you, too, Sir.” 

“Now, now,” Caesar says as he sits down. He gestures for Emily to sit, too, and she does, sitting close to the edge of her seat with her legs crossed. “We’re all friends here. There’s no need for  _ sirs _ .”

“Sorry.” Emily has to bite her tongue to keep from tacking on a  _ sir _ . She knows Kelley’s right. Caesar is anything but a friend. But he has kind eyes and that’s where Emily’s looking now. “I’m nervous.”

“Why’s that?” 

“Because I haven’t seen anything yet. I’m so scared for her.” 

“For Lindsey.” Caesar is egging her on and it’s easy to play along. Emily nods. 

“Yeah. I’m scared I’ll never get to see her again.” She’s tugging at the scrunchie around her wrist as she talks. Caesar is watching her do it. He tips his chin towards her makeshift bracelet.

“What’s that you’ve got there?”

“It’s Lindsey’s,” Emily answers automatically. She shifts to prop one foot on the floor, the other on the bottom rung of her stool as she leans towards Caesar almost conspiratorially. He plays along and leans in, too. Emily grins at her. “That necklace she wears? That’s mine. We traded, you know, before she had to go.” Her voice breaks a little on the last word. 

Caesar gives her a tissue but she’s not crying. She just holds it tight in her fist. 

“Her totem?”

“Yeah. And I packed this without even realizing.” Emily laughs like everything about this situation is funny, not awful. She pulls on the hem of Lindsey’s shirt. Feeling the material between her fingers, she remembers the last time she saw Lindsey wearing it.

They were at the market to get groceries. At least that’s what Lindsey had said when she’d picked Emily up at her parents’ farm. But as soon as they’d gotten there, Lindsey has disappeared deeper into the tent and left Emily to pick out which meats the Horans would have for dinner. 

When Lindsey had reappeared, she was holding a tiny, squinty-eyed gray puppy. 

“Wanna trade?” She’d said with a wry smile and took the groceries out of Emily’s hands. 

It reminds her of home. She wants to go back. 

“Emily? Where’d you go?”

“I just stole this shirt from her.” Emily laughs. She has to wipe her eyes now with the crushed-up tissue. “And I know she’ll want it back when she gets home.”

“I’m sure she will.” Caesar’s hand is on her knee. It takes all of Emily’s willpower not to knock it off. 

“Shall we watch her?” 

That’s kind of the  _ last _ thing Emily wants to do. What she  _ says _ is “Okay.”

-   
“Rose,” Lindsey huffs as they duck behind yet another tree line. It’s dark in here but Lindsey is pretty sure it’s still daylight. Time doesn’t make sense in the arena and the gamemakers can make the sun set with the flip of a switch, but she’s pretty sure they’re just too deep in the jungle for any light to seep through. 

“How far are we gonna go?”

“Mal’s in here somewhere,” is all Rose says. Her voice is firm but her posture isn’t. There’s a little downturn to her shoulders that wasn’t there when they started this search. 

Lindsey reaches out to rest her hand on Rose’s shoulder but Rose just shrugs it off. 

“Maybe we should rest for a minute. We’ve been walking for hours.”

Rose swerves around so violently that when Lindsey takes a step back she almost trips over her own feet. She stumbles back when she sees the fire in Rose’s eyes but Rose doesn’t stop once their eyes meet. She gets all up in Lindsey’s space and jabs her in the center of the chest with a ringed finger.

(Her totem, Lindsey will learn later. It matches one Mal wears.)

“If it was Emily Sonnett in here, you wouldn’t stop looking until you found her. I’m not stopping. You don’t have to follow me.” 

Lindsey is stunned hearing her name here of all places. She guesses not all of the tributes completely ignored the pre-Games footage of their competitors. She’s not sure she likes the idea that people know about Emily. Lindsey liked having that little piece of  _ something _ for herself. She doesn’t like sharing.

She also doesn’t want anyone to use Emily against her somehow.

She’s glad that she’s not like Kelley, who met someone she still cares deeply about in the arena. 

(She’s glad she’s not like Rose.)

Lindsey doesn’t know if Rose is using Emily against her to weaken her or just to get her to move her feet again. Rose has turned her back on her now, though. If she were a little braver and a little less loyal, she might take a shot.

Instead, she squares her shoulders and starts walking again. 

She makes it three steps before something clouds her vision. Lindsey’s first instinct is to swat it away. Initially, she thinks it’s some kind of bird dive bombing her. As she crouches down to inspect it, though, she realizes it’s something attached to a white parachute. 

“Rose!” 

Rose bursts back into view, bow and arrow at the ready. When she realizes Lindsey’s alone, she drops it. “What?”

Lindsey holds up the tiny bag attached to the parachute. Rose presses her lips together.

“You made me come back to you because you got a parachute?”

Lindsey thinks Rosee might actually kill her on the spot. She unwraps the bag, which is made of cloth, and finds a handful of dark blue berries. It’s not much but it means someone back home is rooting for her.

She thinks of Emily. Lindsey tosses a couple of the berries into her mouth and swallows around a lump in her throat. She offers her hand out to Rose. 

“Want some?”

Rose looks wary. “No. Those are meant for you. Come on.” 

Lindsey pops the rest of the berries into her mouth as she falls a step behind Rose as they head deeper into the jungle.

-   
As soon as Emily walks off stage, her expression turns to stone. 

Kelley’s eyebrows pull together. She reaches for Emily’s shoulders and then changes her mind when she sees her expression. She ends up folding her hands behind her neck instead. 

“What?” She mouths. 

Emily either doesn’t get the hint or doesn't care.

“Get me in front of them.” 

Kelley blinks at her. “Weren’t you just-”

“I didn’t get to dictate anything in that conversation,” Emily replies as they walk back towards their quarters. “I can’t be in the arena with her, but I’m what these people see. And Lindsey needs my help. Get me in front of them.”

“Like...without the organized interviews?” 

Emily nods. “I want to talk to these people myself.”

Kelley grins. “I can do that.”

-   
Her throat itches. Her head is throbbing. Her vision turns patchy and then goes black completely. 

Rose’s voice sounds far away and then suddenly way too close but it’s like she’s speaking a totally different language that Lindsey doesn’t understand. She’s falling and then she’s not. The ground hurts but not as badly as her chest does. It feels hard to breathe. 

“-id you eat?” Lindsey blinks at the leaves littering the ground. Suddenly, her entire world tilts on its axis. She’s staring up at the sky which is a startling shade of blue that reminds her of afternoons laying on her back on the Sonnetts’ farm eating raspberries and holding hands. 

Berries. 

Lindsey laughs even though it’s not funny at all. “What color are the parachutes supposed to be?” Now her own voice sounds like gibberish. She hopes Rose is fluent in it.

It’s about then that she realizes Rose is sitting cross-legged on the forest floor with Lindsey’s head in her lap. She pushes some hair out of Lindsey’s sweaty face with a shaky hand. “What?” 

“The parachutes from sponsors. What color are they?”

“Silver,” Rose speaks slowly, like she’s talking to a child. 

“Oh. Then I fucked up,” Lindsey says simply. She drops her head heavily into Rose’s lap and looks past her at the sky. There’s a cloud that kind of looks like Emily’s dog. She hopes Emily won’t be too sad that she died of her own stupidity by eating poisonous berries.

“What are you talking about?”

“The parachute was white cloth. I think somebody tricked me.” Lindsey wonders who it is. She hopes Rose kills them for her, at least. 

“Shit,” is all Rose has to say. 

“Hey,” Lindsey says. She grabs at Rose’s shirt and misses. She tries again and gets it. “Promise me something.” 

“No,” Rose replies with a shake of her head. Her voice is still solid. “Don’t ask me anything. You’re not giving up, Horan.” 

Lindsey smiles sleepily up at her. “No of course not. But on the off chance I die-”

“No one’s dying.”

“A lot of people are dying, Rose.” 

Rose breathes out heavily through her nose. 

“What?”

“Can you figure out who did it and kill them for me?”

“I’ll do that even if you live.” 

Lindsey laughs but that makes her chest burn so she stops. Rose presses her lips together. She’s about to say something when trumpets blare overhead. Lindsey can feel Rose’s heartbeat in the hand that’s gripping hers tightly. Lindsey’s heart is somewhere near her ass.

“Tributes!” Caesar Flickerman’s voice booms from all directions, making Lindsey’s head feel like it’s being split open. She presses a trembling hand to her forehead. “We have a special announcement to make! A one-time only offer…”

“What the fuck-”

“Shut up,” Rose tells her. “I’m trying to listen.”

“There’s something you all need right now. Or something you could all use. Or something that could help you. Come to the cornucopia in the next three hours for a feast and you’ll get it. But you’ll only have three hours.”

Rose and Lindsey look at each other as Caesar wishes them all a  _ Happy Hunger Games! _

Rose stands up. 

Lindsey can’t. 

“What are you doing?” Rose hooks her arms under Lindsey’s armpits and  _ pulls _ , dragging her slowly towards a gigantic pine tree’s trunk. 

“It’s an antidote,” Rose says as she blows some hair out of her face. “The thing we need is an antidote to save your dumb ass.” 

Rose glances down at her. “I’m gonna go get it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well. that's that.
> 
> i'm cornerkix_ on twitter and curiouscat~

**Author's Note:**

> how are we doin'? 
> 
> request me on twitter @cornerkix_ if you wanna yell at me or something. thanks for reading!


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